


Freyja

by Ickleroonilwazlib



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, cats and shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 00:19:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8034652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ickleroonilwazlib/pseuds/Ickleroonilwazlib
Summary: In which Octavia thinks, "Hey, let's domesticate this wild animal!" and Lincoln face-palms a lot.





	1. Chapter 1

Octavia isn’t fond of hunting. She knows it’s necessary, she isn’t stupid after all, but she’d rather not. Of course, she can’t voice this to Indra who would think of it as weakness so she resigns herself to her fate and follows the small party into the woods. She’s good with a bow and arrow, a recently mastered weapon which she appreciates more than her sword at the moment. The sword is still resting in its scabbard on her back, a constant reminder of who she is now, but the bow in her hand feels like it belongs in these times of calm.

They spot the dark _Debal_ , as the Tri_Kru calls them, the large spotted black cat meandering in the woods, seemingly looking for something. The hunters are patient, quietly studying the best positions, signaling each other until they have what they want. Surrounding the cat, the hunters emerge, making sure she tries to escape in the direction they want her to go. straight into their trap. Thankfully, Octavia only has to scare the cat in said direction; she leaves the job of killing it to the warriors a few feet away. Once the cat has bounded south, towards its killers, Octavia lets out a sigh of relief and readies herself for the death cry of the poor creature.

She hears something else, however.

Higher pitched. A wailing sort of sound. The rest of the hunters have followed the _Debal_ to its death, leaving Octavia to search for the noise by herself. She doesn’t know why it’s so important for her to find it but it’s a sad sort of sound, lost and scared. She has to find it soon, preferably by the time their dinner is slaughtered--–the war may be over but the woods are dangerous, especially if she’s by herself. The whining echoes in a small cavern within an old, thick tree and though Octavia knows better (she can already hear Lincoln’s chastising) she sticks her hand in there and hopes for the best. With a gasp, she retrieves the smallest cat she’s ever seen, a baby _Debal_ that has her heart melting almost instantly. She’s seen baby _Debals_ before but never this small, never this….weak. It has patches of fur missing, its ear is mangled, and looks plain miserable to be alive. Yet its wails are strong, using its entire body to push out the sounds through its small mouth.

The roar of death echoes in the woods; dinner has been caught and the hunters are more than likely recognizing that Octavia is not among them. Still, she continues to stare at the cat. It would die if she left it, she is certain of that. But what should she do with it?

“Ok, little one, let’s be quiet, ok?” she whispers to it, placing it inside her jacket, snuggled against the warmth of her breast, “You’re not afraid.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey Nyko!”

The bearded man turns around and greets her with a nod. It’s stifling hot in his _iiar_ , a few antidotes and medicines cooking on top of the fire in the middle of the room, and she enters with the air of looking for something among his cabinets. She’s super aware of the cat in her jacket but it’s purring against her chest at the moment so she tries to steady her nerves.

“Hey, quick question,” she starts offhandedly, picking up a random vial and inspecting it, “if I were to start loosing hair, what would you give me to…I dunno, regrow it?”

Nyko stares at her.

“Why are you losing hair?”

Octavia picks up another vial, still not meeting his eyes. “I don’t know. Just hypothetically.”

Nyko raises his eyebrow and walks over to her, taking the vials from her hands and putting them back. Octavia shuffles away.

“There’s plenty of reasons that require different treatments. Is it lice?”

Is it? Octavia wonders. It might be. “What else could it be?”

“A number of things—mange, it could be hereditary, pregnancy—,” Nyko studies her for a minute before adding, “Do you want me to have a look at it?”

Octavia nearly drops the glass of red liquid in her hand, her free hand unconsciously sheltering the sleeping cat against her ribs.

“Look at it? What do you mean? Who?”

Nyko looks suspicious now, his eyes darting to the hand near her stomach, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he searches for a bottle and gives it to her, suspicion lining his face. “Try washing with this first. It’s antibacterial. It won’t affect the child if you are…pregnant.”

Octavia feels herself growing red despite knowing she’s not. She receives it and promises she’ll send Lincoln with payment soon. She nearly runs out of there, the bottle secured in her hand, and makes the trek to her house. She’s stopped a few times by fellow seconds, wanting to spar or talk tactics but she pretends to be sick, shaking the bottle in their faces and finally makes it home. Lincoln won’t be back until later so it’s the perfect time to inspect the _debal_. It shivers when she takes it out of its little shelter, meowing pathetically but she tries to ignore it as she heats up a small pot of water to bathe it in. Meanwhile, she knows she has to feed it and the idea enters her head that this little helpless animal will grow up to be that huge beast that’s currently roasting in a pit.

She laughs a panicky little laugh. She really is an idiot. What did she think this little one would grow up to be?

Still, she holds the cat under its body and with a cup, starts pouring the warm water over it. She can’t help but feel bad because the medicine must sting and it’s crying pathetically, even through her soft murmurs of comfort. When she’s done and it’s wrapped in a warm towel, she feeds it the remaining milk they have with a small cotton ball and it starts purring again. She holds it to her chest again, leaning back against the chair, the small purring creature making her feel warm and sleepy and she’s honestly happy with this little beast mewling on her breast. It’s small and it’s pathetic and the likelihood that it will survive is probably not good. She thinks maybe its mother was looking for it to kill it. It’s what happens in the wild, after all. Only the strong survive. There’s no room for weakness in this life. But Octavia found her for a reason—a second chance perhaps? Gods know Octavia wouldn’t be here if not for her own.

She strokes its prickly fur, smiling when it reminds her of Lincoln’s day old stubble. She doesn’t remember falling asleep. All she remembers is Lincoln’s “What in the world is that?!” and nearly falling out of her chair.

* * *

"What were you thinking?”

Lincoln is stroking the fire, glancing at her as she plays with the little one who she has decided to call Freyja, after the Norse goddess. He’s too worried to be charmed by her love of myths and history, even if she is looking very cute playing with the small animal. “You do know how big those grow right?”

Octavia rolls her eyes.

“Yes Lincoln, I’m not stupid.”

Freyja bites her finger in play, its teeth small but sharp enough to draw a bit of blood. Octavia frowns.

“Is that why you went to Nyko?” Lincoln asks, coming to crouch next to her and noticing the droplets of blood, “He was worried about you. Seemed to think you might be pregnant.”

His movements are casual but his voice is not. Her heart sinks to her stomach. They both know it’s impossible for her to be with child; the ark had seen to it when they ligated her tubes as punishment. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel guilty for not being able to provide him with a family—whether it’s now or later on in life. She looks down to her wound and wipes it on her pants.

“Well, I’m not,” she sighs, scooping the cat and heading over to their shared bed, “Did you pay him?”

Lincoln nods, his back to her. They’re both ready to turn in for the night, the village is as quiet as it gets, and the night air whistles against their small home. He doesn’t dispute Freyja's new found bed on top of Octavia’s chest when he slips between the covers but he’s worried at her connection with the animal. She feels his stare on the side of her face and it takes quite a lot for her not to sigh in irritation.

“Listen, I know what you’re thinking because I thought it too.” She turns her head to look at him, the fire dancing shadows on his face, “Maybe she can protect us, you know. I mean she is a baby and we’ll be all she knows.”

She’ll become family, she means. Just like they are now. Small but still growing.

“It looks a little sickly,” he comments as he strokes the cat’s head, his fingers passing over the mangled ear. Freyja fusses.

“Do you think Nyko will have a look at it?” Octavia whispers, slapping his hand away and petting the cat back to sleep.

“Probably not,” Lincoln groans, shifting so he can sleep on his stomach, his face buried in the pillow. She stares at the tattoos running down his spine, deep in thought. Maybe Clarke would.

“You still have to think about what the rest of the village will say,” he mutters, already half asleep, unknowingly causing Octavia to go into a panic and spend a long, sleepless night thinking about it.

* * *

She’s managed to keep the cat hidden for some time but soon it starts to grow and she’s in panic mode. It’s not as big as she had expected; Lincoln thinks it might be the runt of the litter but it doesn’t make it any less ominous. It hasn’t shown any signs of aggression but its signs of affection are not cute either. Not when it decides to pounce on Lincoln every time he enters his home, purring as loud as the motors at Camp Jaha and nearly sending him sprawling to the ground. Especially not when it eats more than Lincoln and Octavia combined. Definitely not when it tries to climb on her chest every night. It’s enough for Lincoln to put his foot down one night, after Freyja refused to listen to him and continued to climb on the shelves, effectively breaking and spilling bottles of antidotes and poison. Even worse, in her fear that Freyja might be poisoned, Octavia had carried the cat out into the village, scaring the hell out of people, and demanded Nyko look at her. They were now in the middle of a heated argument back home, the cat purring happily in its corner.

“The entire village wants that thing out, Octavia.”

“I could give less of a damn what they want.” She’s sitting with her arms and legs crossed, not looking up at him. “She’d die if we let her loose.”

“It’s an animal, it’ll be fine,” Lincoln stands tall and broad with an expression that makes him look very much like her brother and it’s not making things easier.

“Then I’ll go stay in Camp Jaha,” she huffs. It’s not an empty threat. She’s a Sky person after all. It is her home.

Lincoln scowls.

“What makes you think they’ll accept her?” he crouches in front of her, taking her face in his hands, “What’s really going, _suiyuu_?”

“Nothing!” she counters, pulling away from him, “I just don’t want Freyja to die. She’s mine, Lincoln.”

Freyja jerks up, her good ear perking up and stalks her way to Octavia, eyeing Lincoln suspiciously with her black eyes. Octavia holds her hand up, placating her, and after a few tense seconds, Freyja sits next to her and accepts her petting.

“She’s also a wild animal,” Lincoln sighs, shaking his head, “And the fact is she could turn on us at any moment. That’s what the village is worried about.”

Octavia scoffs. “She hasn’t yet, has she?”

There’s no arguing with her, Lincoln realizes, standing back up and sighing. They are quiet for the rest of the night, tension tangible between them, especially when Freyja tries to climb on her again. Octavia knows she’s being stupid but she can’t help wanting to protect her. It’s mangled ear never healed properly so it’s floppy and useless, her fur had regrown and now she was the color of night, what had once been cute pawing at her chest now involved long, sharp nails that could rip her to pieces.

The strain between the two lovers remain for the following days, upsetting her more than the arguments she’s had with Indra, the Commander, even Nyko. She’s all set to leave one day, despite Lincoln’s protests, despite the fact that Octavia has no idea why she’s so vehement in keeping this creature, when the horn sounds in the distance. Almost simultaneously, there’s a crash outside and a blast loud enough to have her ears ringing. She and Lincoln step out to a battlefield right in the middle of their village, swords ready in hand, joining the rest of the fight.

They have no idea what’s happening, the smoke from the blast has them fighting blind and she doesn’t know what in the world is happening. She thinks it’s one of the other clans, maybe the Ice nation but she can’t be sure. All she knows is that her sword is tasting blood once again, the beating of her heart loud in her ears, war cries ringing all around her. The battle rages on for who knows how long and while most of the enemy is retreating, she hears Indra’s orders to capture prisoners and Octavia runs after the nearest retreating enemy. It’s a small scuffle to subdue him but he’s a large man, larger than Lincoln, and she takes a hit to the ribs that has her gasping for breath against the moist earth. She feels him looming over her, sword pointed at her fallen form, when there’s a sharp screech, feral and wild. A large, black shadow swoops in front of her. Freyja’s teeth are bared, foam forming at the corners of her mouth, the rumbling warning coming from deep in her throat and the man has enough common sense to back away in fear. He tries his luck and makes a run for it but Freyja takes after him, her lithe form shadowing him like the very personification of death. She pounces on his back, biting into his shoulder and making him cry out in the worst way Octavia has ever heard.

Lincoln is running to the cat, yelling at her, trying to calm her down and surprisingly Freyja listens. The enemy is alive, still pinned underneath her but she’s now staring at Octavia, as if to get confirmation of Lincoln’s orders. Octavia nods, sitting up slowly, her hand pressing at her ribs. Freyja pushes off the bleeding man, rubbing against Lincoln’s legs as she makes her way to Octavia to lick her face. She lets her, despite the blood dripping from her muzzle, and doesn’t leave Octavia’s side for the rest of the night.

From then on, it’s a common sight to see Octavia walking around with her dark feline companion. Despite its sad beginnings, despite of its weaknesses, Freyja becomes a protector, as Octavia predicted, of the entire village.


End file.
